Jessica Andersen - Spellfire

“Show-offs!” Dez called, but he was laughing.

“Sorry,” Rabbit said, totally unrepentant.

After another minute, though, they let the pyrotechnics die down, so the heat subsided a little and the bonfire became just a normal bonfire, the magic just a background hum. The teammates were still linked, though, and their power sang a sweet note in the air as Dez led them through the first Cardinal Day prayer of the new age.

There was no bloodletting, no sacrifice, no prophecies or threats of dire retribution. Instead, the teammates thanked the true gods for their help, for the victory, and for their lives. It still seemed impossible that they had all survived, yet they had. Now they would go on to live as they chose. And thank the gods for that.

There was a soft upswing in the magic, as if the gods had heard them. Or maybe it came from the prayer itself; Myr didn’t know. But she knew that she was happy, here and now, standing beside Rabbit in the center of a community that her childhood self never would have dreamed existed, never mind that she would become part of it. These were her people, her friends. And Rabbit was hers, always and forever.

“Before we break for games and food,” Dez said, “I believe someone wanted to say something?”

Myr frowned with the others, looking around. “What the—”

“That’d be me,” Rabbit said, and stepped out of line, then turned to face her.

And got down on one knee.

She caught her breath at the sight of him down there—Rabbit, who wouldn’t willingly get on his knees for anything or anyone. Rabbit, who pulled a ring box out of his pocket and flipped it open to reveal a blaze of ruby and emerald, two perfect stones set atop a diamond-studded ring.

“Oh,” she said, the word barely a breath as all the oxygen suddenly left her body.

His eyes gleamed as he said, “I’ve never loved anyone but you, and I’ll go on loving you forever, with or without this. But this is what I want, and I hope it’s what you want, too.” Then, with him on one knee and everyone they cared about watching, he levitated the ring and sent it floating into the air, so it hovered between them, wreathed in red-gold magic. “What do you say, Myr? Will you marry me?”

Now it was her turn to go deer-in-headlights. Not because she was horrified or steamrollered or anything, but because she hadn’t expected this. Not in a million years—or at least not for a few more years, anyway. Her pulse drummed in her ears and her hands shook. She was overwhelmed, she was shocked, she was—

She was supposed to say something.

Everyone was waiting.

The ring was waiting. The magic was waiting.

Yes, of course, yes! she shouted inside, but even if he heard her through their link, it didn’t count. This was the sort of thing she needed to say out loud to make it real. And she would. In a second, when she remembered how to breathe.

Behind him, the bonfire grew hotter and bigger, going the pure orange-red of his magic now. For a moment, she thought he was letting off some steam into the magic, channeling his hidden nerves. But then the flames rose up from the bonfire, curled in on themselves, and made a perfect heart. It hung there behind him, living, beating in time with her pulse, then dissolved to the words “I love you.”

Suddenly she could breathe again. She could even laugh again, though the sound was breathless and a little wild. “Only you,” she said on a rush. “Only you could propose by writing it across the sky in flames.”

“And?”

“And yes, of course. Of course I’ll marry you. Only you, Rabbit. My one and only.” She held out her hand and watched it tremble as the ring floated onto it and snugged into place.

He exhaled in a rush and bowed his head for a second. “Thank fuck. For a second there, I thought . . .”

“No,” she said, tugging him to his feet. “Don’t ever think it.” Then they kissed, triggering a chorus of whoops and applause, along with shouted suggestions that ranged from cute to borderline obscene, though all in good fun.

Rabbit chuckled against her mouth. “Hope you didn’t want me to do that in private.”

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“That’s pushing it.”

“Okay. You’re perfect for me, which is why I love you. It’s why I’m going to marry you. And it’s why, as soon as I get you alone, I’m going to . . .” She put her lips to his ear and started whispering.

Her skin heated as she got to the nitty-gritty and heard his breath quicken, felt his fingers tighten on her hips. The air around them hummed with equinox magic and the blood began to roar through her veins like—

“Whoa!” Rabbit pulled away and put himself between her and the bonfire, which suddenly flared higher and hotter, reaching up into the night sky. “Sorry. Got a little carried away there.”

But when he gestured to bring the flames under control, the bonfire didn’t respond, even when Myr added her magic to his. Instead it burned even brighter, flaring into strange shapes and moving like a living creature. It wasn’t under their control anymore!

“Wait!” She grabbed his arm. “Look!”

The flames curled into the shape of an animal’s head on a man’s shoulders. It wasn’t any critter that’d ever done a cameo on Animal Planet, though.

It was Seth.

The god didn’t speak, but it moved within the flames and the smoke, turning to peer down at Rabbit and Myrinne. Its eyes shimmered, and the radiance of golden magic emerged from the flames and snaked to wrap around them, touch them, twine around their wrists.

Myr gasped as her skin heated, then burned, and something shifted inside her, soldering into place with a click that she felt more than heard. Then the burn faded and the smoke withdrew.

“Gods,” Rabbit whispered. “Father. Thank you.”

The giant head of flame tipped once in acknowledgment, then shimmered and disappeared. Moments later, the fire died down to normal once more, leaving a stunned, awed silence behind.

“Did that just happen?” Leah whispered. Her face was lit with wonder and her hands were wrapped around Strike’s arm as if she’d had to hold him back from coming to Rabbit’s aid.

Rabbit hadn’t needed help, though. And Myr had a feeling he’d finally gotten what he wanted. What they both wanted, though they had trained themselves not to care.

Now, though . . .

Holding her breath, she put her right forearm near Rabbit’s, both of them facing down. “You ready?” she whispered as her heart drummed against her ribs.

He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“On three. One . . . two . . .” On “three” they both flipped their wrists over to show their marks. And sure enough, they both had a new golden glyph: the intertwined curlicues of the jun tan. The mated mark that signaled the gods’ acceptance of their paring.

Finally, Myr thought. Or maybe she said it aloud, because Rabbit looked at her with a quick grin that did nothing to wipe the awe from his face.

“Myr . . . gods. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Tears were running down her face, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t thought the jun tan would matter, but it did. It really, really did. Because as she held him, kissed him, she could feel the magic of their new connection, feel the love washing from her to him and back again. More, she felt him. He was tough and solid, and ready to go to war for her, for what he thought was right. He was her soldier, her lover. More, he was Rabbit. Her man. Her mate. Her one and only.

And her husband-to-freaking-be, thankyouverymuch.

The next twenty minutes or so were pretty much a blur to Rabbit. He got his hand shaken and his back thumped enough that his shoulder started to tingle. Or maybe that was just part of the whole-body sizzle that’d hit him about three seconds after he got the ring on Myr’s finger and the first wave of Oh, holy shit, I’m getting married! hit him for real.